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<h1><a href="https://archiveofourown.org/works/27148000">Ties Of Blood</a> by <a class='authorlink' href='https://archiveofourown.org/users/liza011/pseuds/liza011'>liza011</a></h1>

<table class="full">

<tr><td><b>Category:</b></td><td>Baldur's Gate, baldur's gate 3</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Language:</b></td><td>English</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Status:</b></td><td>In-Progress</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Published:</b></td><td>2020-10-22</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Updated:</b></td><td>2021-04-16</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Packaged:</b></td><td>2021-05-06 22:09:26</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Rating:</b></td><td>Explicit</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Warnings:</b></td><td>Graphic Depictions Of Violence</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Chapters:</b></td><td>17</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Words:</b></td><td>16,206</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Publisher:</b></td><td>archiveofourown.org</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Story URL:</b></td><td>https://archiveofourown.org/works/27148000</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Author URL:</b></td><td>https://archiveofourown.org/users/liza011/pseuds/liza011</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Summary:</b></td><td><div class="userstuff">
              <p>[This story will contain SPOILERS for Baldur's Gate 3's Early Access!] <br/>Once again, Astarion was prowling the streets of Baldur’s Gate after dark. As always he had been ordered to bring back some nightly sustenance for his master. He had stopped feeling sorry for his prey some time ago. Now it was all just a game. A game at which no one but his master ever won at. And one he was forced to keep playing forever.</p>
            </div></td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Comments:</b></td><td>27</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Kudos:</b></td><td>78</td></tr>

</table>

<a name="section0001"><h2>1. Snatching Souls</h2></a>
<div class="story"><div class="userstuff module">
    
    <p>He quietly shut the door behind him as he set foot outside and the cool night air greeted him with a welcoming breeze. His back still hurt and the scars were still raw even after rapidly healing. A poem. Cazador had been kind enough to let him know as he had carved it into his flesh. Astarion didn’t know which he found worse, the fact that he would never know what it said, or the fact that he wanted to know so badly and was too proud to ask its meaning, if not of his master, then of any of the other servants.</p><p>He tried to shake the thoughts and focus on what he had to do next. They would do him no good in his task to bring Cazador his nightly sustenance.</p><p>He hurried through the back streets and made sure not to draw attention to himself. He had found someone his master would be pleased with. It hadn't even taken him that long. Then again he had been doing this for some time now. He watched from the shadows as the half-elf entered the tavern. After a few moments he followed her inside.</p><p>She was sitting on her own at a table in the back with a glass of firewine. She wasn’t from around here. He could tell by the way she was dressed in traveling garbs and carried a backpack with her. She was the perfect prey. The one that was very unlikely to be missed by a lot of important people. Someone who could have easily perished on her travels. He hoped she would enjoy some company. His company.</p><p>After he had ordered a drink he approached her table with a smile on his lips. “Excuse me. I was wondering if you’d like to share a drink with me. I seem to have lost my companions somewhere down the road while we were tavern hopping.”</p><p>She turned to him and gave him a smile. She was pretty. Her long hair was tied into a bun. A few strands had come loose and nicely framed her soft featured face. And even though she was smiling, her eyes showed a wariness that he appreciated. “You seem frightfully sober for someone who has been tavern hopping,” she noted. With a gesture to the second chair she invited him to take a seat.</p><p>“And you seem like someone who gets around a lot.” He went on to introduce himself. “I’m Astarion. Who do I have the pleasure of speaking to?”</p><p>“I’m Sorcha. And you’re right, Astarion, I do get around.”</p><p>He sighed. “I never get out of the city. I’ve lived in Baldur’s Gate for as long as I can remember. I would love to go on an adventure, but alas, I’m stuck working for the magistrate.” He was lying. He no longer worked there, but she didn’t need to know that. Lying came so easy when it wasn’t to his master. The words just flowed from his lips like honey. “How do you like it here so far?”</p><p>Sorcha shrugged. “I can’t really say, I just arrived here earlier this evening. It’s a big city though. Bigger than any I’ve been to before.”</p><p>The information gave him something to work with. “Would you like a tour? I know all the best places.”</p><p>Curiosity had gotten the better of her and he could tell she didn’t see him as a threat. It was almost a pity that it had become so easy to make people trust him. If she didn’t agree, he would find a way to get her where he wanted her one way or another. She wasn’t going to see the sun rise in the morning no matter what.</p><p>“Well, why not? I need to look for a place to sleep still anyway. You could point me to an inn while we’re at it.”</p><p>He wanted to laugh. For a second he had the insane notion to just tell her Cazador would host her. And then he did. He would take his chances. “You know, my job at the magistrate provided me with a nice room at a manor. They’re not all rented out at the moment. You could stay there. Wouldn’t even cost you a single piece of gold. My boss is always happy to have guests.”</p><p>This was the first sign of hesitation he had seen in her. She didn’t answer right away so he assured her, “If you don’t like the place I can still point you to three different inns that are all lovely to stay the night at.”</p><p>“Alright.”</p><p>He talked with her some more and when they had finished up their drinks they went on their way, exiting the tavern like any other. Astarion held the door for her, quite pleased with himself. He remembered, once upon a time he would have felt a sharp sting of guilt and self-hatred. Instead, he was relieved.</p>
  </div></div>
<a name="section0002"><h2>2. A Short Visit</h2></a>
<div class="story"><div class="userstuff module">
    
    <p>
  <span>Sorcha turned out to be quite a refreshing change to his boring routine. He would enjoy it while it lasted.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“-and then I told her to plant it in his bedroll,” she laughed. “He screamed like a little girl! He begged us to get the mouse away from him.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Good on you for teaching him a lesson.” He made sure to keep an emotional distance. He had made the mistake of getting attached to a victim before and it had sent him spiraling into a few nights of severe depression, invoking Cazador’s ire in the process. He could recall it vividly. Cazador had taken steps to make him numb to the pain and death of others by putting him through a series of excruciating torture, all the while telling him that if it wasn’t them, it would be him who would end up suffering a million times over. It had been most effective. Only the thought of fire licking his flesh was more than enough to wipe out all sympathy he felt for any who were meant to die, no matter by whose hand, his own or Cazador’s.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Indeed.” She pointed at the manor just as they rounded a corner. “Is that it?”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Yes.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“I’ve got to say, I wasn’t expecting it to be this large. They must pay you very well.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“I can’t complain.” He wished he could. He was lucky if he got to go out to hunt at night and wasn’t served dead rats for dinner. If he wanted gold he had to steal it from unsuspecting travelers.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>As they neared his home he felt the slightest bit uneasy. Sorcha was walking into his trap none the wiser. He guessed it was Cazador he was actually worried about. Usually he brought his victims back unconscious, or at knifepoint.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>He opened the heavy front door and gestured for her to cross the threshold. “Ladies first.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Thank you.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>She stood in the entrance hall in awe, admiring the statues and marble pillars. “It’s beautiful.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>He gave her a nod. “That it is. Please, follow me.” He led her through the hallway on the right, towards the sitting room. He knocked.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Cazador’s voice came from the other side. He only spoke a single word. “Enter.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>He did, nudging Sorcha forward into the room with him. “I brought a guest who would like to stay the night.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>His master gave him a quick calculating glare before he turned his attention to Sorcha. “I would be happy to have you stay. I’m Cazador Szarr, I am in charge of the upkeep of this place. It’s a pleasure to make your acquaintance.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Thank you. I’m Sorcha. I’m just traveling through. I’m very thankful for your hospitality.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“You’re welcome.” His gaze went to Astarion once more and he addressed him, “You may leave now. I would like to talk with Sorcha in private for a minute.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Of course.” Astarion bowed his head, gave Sorcha one more look and told her, “I’ll see you later.” And he would see her later, if only to dispose of her remains.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>As he walked out, he could feel her tense. She had sensed that something was off far too late. With the sound of the door shutting behind him came a scream that would not be heard by anyone who cared.</span>
</p>
  </div></div>
<a name="section0003"><h2>3. Broken Trust</h2></a>
<div class="story"><div class="userstuff module">
    
    <p>He waited until the door reopened and the sight that greeted him made him stop in his tracks.</p><p>She was alive! Even worse, she was a spawn. What in the hells had driven Cazador to spare her?</p><p>“I trusted you,” Sorcha hissed. “You tricked me!”</p><p>She swung her balled fist in his direction, but it never connected.</p><p>“Stop!” Cazador’s voice was as sharp as a knife. It made her freeze.</p><p>Astarion knew the feeling all too well, but seeing it in effect on another was quite a shock. The servants tended to avoid each other whenever they could. It had only ever been him and Cazador without anyone else present.</p><p>Sorcha was fuming. “What the hell did you do to me?!”</p><p>“Be silent,” Cazador ordered before turning to Astarion. “She will be your ward. You will teach her what I taught you.”</p><p>He thought he hadn’t heard right. He was supposed to do what now? Babysit her?</p><p>“Do you have any objections?” There was a warning in his voice.</p><p>He knew better than to argue. “Of course not, master. It will be my honor to teach her.”</p><p>“Very well. Sorcha, you will answer to Astarion unless you receive direct instructions from me.”</p><p>Astarion watched her fight in vain. She couldn’t disobey, as much as she wished she could.</p><p>“As you say,” she brought out through clenched teeth.</p><p>“You may both leave me now. Astarion will show you to your room.”</p><p>“Pick up your backpack and come with me.” He left with Sorcha in tow.</p><p>He wondered if finding out that she had been nothing more than a refreshment to Cazador Szarr had scarred her. He couldn’t tell. There was too much rage. It was hiding all the rest of her. She was now just like him.</p><p>“I TRUSTED you!” she repeated her statement from before.</p><p>“It’s not like I had a choice!” He tried to hold back his own anger, but the words came out louder than he had meant them to. “Don’t you dare judge me! Not after you’ve already felt exactly what it’s like to have your will taken from you.”</p><p>“You could have brought back someone else!”</p><p>“You would wish this fate upon another? My, you are quite selfish.” Astarion looked at her carefully. Her face was distorted with a mixture of hurt, disgust and betrayal. Her large eyes, now the same shade of red as every other vampire spawn’s, staring at him unrelentingly. “You should be glad that you’re alive, dear. Most people who make this trip only get to make it once.”</p><p>It made her pause. What else had she expected? “That would have been better than this!” She was almost screaming.</p><p>He could tell that she didn’t mean it. She was only saying it to defy him. “Don’t let Cazador hear that,” he warned. “He will make you wish you were dead every single time he lays his hands on you.”</p><p>“Why would I believe a single word out of your mouth after what happened?” she sneered.</p><p>He snapped. In one swift motion he pushed her into the hallway wall, his right forearm pressing into the front of her neck hard enough to make her choke. She clawed at him, trying to break free. His tone turned cold. “I’m only partly to blame for what happened. You were far too trusting of a stranger. You came here with me without truly questioning my intentions. And now you will have to bear the consequences of your actions.” As she kept struggling he felt her anger quickly be replaced by fear.</p><p>“Stop, please,” she pleaded.</p><p>He didn’t. He pushed harder. “Do you think I’m happy with how this turned out? I was ready to feed your remains to the earth, instead I have been ordered to watch over you!”</p><p>“Please, I’m sorry.” Her words were raspy and panicked. She had almost completely burned through all the air in her lungs.</p><p>“Didn’t I just hear you say that death would have been preferable?”</p><p>“Please stop, I’m begging you. I didn’t mean it!”</p><p>He only stopped when he saw tears form in her eyes.</p><p>He stepped back and Sorcha fell to her knees, coughing and gasping. “I don’t need you to believe me. But you would do good to heed my advice. Because this was just a slap on the wrist compared to what Cazador is capable of.” He offered her a hand to help her stand.</p><p>As expected, she didn’t take it. She picked herself up from the ground. “I hate you.”</p><p>Her statement made him smirk. “That’s fine with me. But I do think you hate yourself a little as well.” She didn’t look away quick enough, he had seen something break inside her.</p><p>“You’ll get used to it," he said.</p><p>Just like he had.</p>
  </div></div>
<a name="section0004"><h2>4. Lessons Learned (Part 1)</h2></a>
<div class="story"><div class="userstuff module">
    
    <p>It was a week after Sorcha had been turned and he had spent all of it teaching her about the rules she now had to live by. He had kept her up until sunrise to have her experience first hand the damage the light caused them. He had taken her to a river to let the water burn her. And he had taught her how to hunt for her own food, though she hadn’t really needed it. His teaching duties had gotten him out of fetching people for Cazador to feed on for now. At least until he thought her ready to go out with him to do it.</p><p>He was just about to leave his room when Sorcha knocked on his door. She had a distinct way of doing it. She tapped her nails on the wood instead of using her knuckles like anyone else. “Come in.”</p><p>She entered, and he could immediately smell the dried blood. Her hands were caked in it.</p><p>“Couldn’t you have cleaned up first?” he asked, irritated.</p><p>“I’m sorry. I just, I need your help. It won’t take long.”</p><p>He let out a frustrated sigh. “Fine, what’s the problem?”</p><p>“I can’t get it onto the table on my own.”</p><p>She had adapted quickly. Her anger was gone and pretending that he and Cazador were now her new family somehow seemed to make all of what had happened acceptable for her. She almost seemed to be enjoying herself every now and then. He was cautious around her, looking out for any signs of her plotting revenge. He hadn’t seen any, and it had made him even more paranoid. But maybe, just maybe, all it meant was that she simply dealt with trauma differently than he did.</p><p>He rested his face in his hands. “I just wanted some quiet.” He got up from his desk and walked past her. “Let’s go.”</p><p>In the hallway a trail of red and brown let him know exactly which path she had dragged the deer she was currently working on. “Lovely. Just lovely. Let’s hope Cazador doesn’t see this,” he grumbled. Because if he did he knew exactly what it meant. A lot of trouble. And so far he had managed to stay out of it. He intended to keep it that way.</p><p>Sorcha followed him like a shadow.</p><p>One of the perks of the manor was that one rarely encountered anyone in the halls. Its layout was designed to keep servants separated from each other as much as possible. He only knew a few faces and if they did happen to talk to each other, it was only to deliver messages from and to Cazador. They were all strangers basically. With him and Sorcha that had now become different and it bothered him that he didn’t know to what ends Cazador had changed the rules for him. He knew he was somehow being tested. Everything was either a test or a sick game.</p><p>They arrived at the workshop. Sorcha had gotten the deer in front of the table and not an inch further. Its head was going to be mounted as a trophy above the fireplace in the sitting room.</p><p>“I thought I would be able to get it up since I already gutted it, but no, still too heavy.”</p><p>“Was it your dinner?” He waited for her to have a good grip on the carcass and helped her lift it.</p><p>“It was.”</p><p>“Do you need help with anything else before I go?” he wanted to know.</p><p>She thought for a moment and then shook her head. “I’m fine now. I’ll return to you once I’m finished.”</p><p>“Clean the hallway before you keep working.”</p><p>“Alright.” She grabbed a bucket and a rag.</p><p>While she went to scrub the floor, Astarion made his way to the gardens to get some air.</p><p>It was a clear night and the stars were bright in the sky. It had been two nights since he had spoken to his master, who had told him he would be checking on Sorcha soon. He was worried. Not for Sorcha, but for himself. If she didn’t hold up and Cazador decided that his teachings hadn’t progressed fast and far enough there would be consequences. Worst of all, he was almost certain that only he would be the one who would be punished. If Sorcha found out about that, she could make his life even more of a hell than it already was.</p><p>He didn’t quite know how long he had been wandering the grounds before he heard footsteps behind him. He turned, knowing exactly who it was.</p><p>“Master.” He bowed.</p><p>“Astarion. Your ward just visited me.”</p><p>He tensed. She had gone to Cazador on her own?! He had explicitly told her not to.</p><p>Cazador smiled. He rarely did so and the sight was as beautiful as it was disturbing. “She came to me with a mounted deer head. Very fine work.”</p><p>He waited anxiously. Cazador wouldn’t have come just to tell him that. Something was wrong.</p><p>“As sorry as she was for interrupting me in my studies, she only did so because she couldn’t find you.” There it was. This wasn’t good. “Did you forget to tell her where you would be going?”</p><p>He had shown her the gardens. He had shown her the entire grounds. Why hadn’t she thought to look there first?! “Forgive me, master. She knows the grounds, I told her-”</p><p>Cazador didn’t let him finish. “Tell me who is at fault for this inconvenience. Her, or you?”</p><p>Before Astarion could even open his mouth to speak the sound of another set of footsteps reached them. Sorcha was running down the path towards them and came to a halt gasping for air.</p><p>“I am so sorry! The garden completely slipped my mind, I should have looked for you here first.”</p><p>Cazador was still waiting for Astarion to answer.</p><p>“What’s going on?” Sorcha asked, looking at him, then Cazador.</p><p>“None of your concern,” Cazador said. “Astarion, I’m beginning to grow impatient. This has already taken up enough of my time.”</p><p>He balled his fists and looked at Sorcha. “For what it’s worth, I’m sorry,” he told her before answering Cazador. “Her.”</p><p>“Very well. I will deal with the matter later.”</p><p>Astarion watched as he strode towards the manor again, leaving him with a concerned Sorcha.</p><p>“What was that just now?” she asked, troubled. “What happened?”</p><p>He let out a long breath and tried to collect his thoughts. “Cazador came and told me you went to see him. He wasn’t happy… Tell me, Sorcha, have I been unclear with my instructions at any point in time?”</p><p>“No, you haven’t. I just thought-”</p><p>“You’re not supposed to think!” he shouted. “You’re supposed to do as I say!” He lowered his voice again before he kept speaking. “You’re in for a world of hurt tonight. I hope he doesn’t break you like he broke me, for your sake.” He had gotten out of being punished tonight, but he wasn’t sure that would hold up in the future.</p><p>Sorcha had caught on. “He asked you whose fault it was?”</p><p>“He did.”</p><p>“And you told him it was mine?”</p><p>“I did.”</p><p>Something clicked in her head. He couldn’t find the word for the expression on her face.</p><p>“I’ll do better, I promise. I’m sorry you got dragged into this.” It was a sincere apology.</p><p>He stared at her. This was not the reaction he had expected. He had thought she was going to be furious, that she was going to argue that it was not anybody’s fault really, but she didn’t. She wasn’t even hurt that he had just told Cazador that she was at fault in this.</p><p>“What kind of pain do I have to prepare for later?”</p><p>He turned his back to her and lifted his shirt, revealing the scars from around a week ago. “This, if you’re lucky.” He quickly let the fabric fall back down and gestured for her to walk beside him.</p><p>“Why is it written in Infernal?” she asked, surprising him.</p><p>“I wouldn’t know.”</p><p>“If you like, I could translate it,” she offered.</p><p>“I’ll think about it.”</p><p>They continued in silence. He took one look at Sorcha and knew she was glad she wasn’t alone right now, knowing what was to come later.</p>
  </div></div>
<a name="section0005"><h2>5. Lessons Learned (Part 2)</h2></a>
<div class="story"><div class="userstuff module">
    
    <p>Cazador came back late in the night to escort Sorcha to the cellar, which doubled as his personal torture chamber. Astarion had been to it many times before. Even thinking of the place filled him with dread. He was in his room unaware that she was on her way to receive her punishment at this moment. He wouldn’t even hear her scream. The walls of the basement swallowed all sound.</p><p>He sat there thinking that if roles had been reversed, he would have been ready to rip Sorcha’s throat out for even suggesting he was at fault, even if he had been. He knew that it was selfish and unfair, but it was true and there was no point in denying it. He wasn’t a good person. He was just trying to survive. He didn’t know how she would react to him after Cazador was done with her. From what he had seen so far, there was a chance that she would go into another fit of rage when she saw him next, but far more likely was that she would avoid him. It was what he would have done. At least for the immediate aftermath of the torture. There was also a chance that nothing would change and she’d pretend none of it had happened. Though whatever Cazador had planned for her, it wasn’t something she’d forget. He just hoped she’d recover from it.</p><p>He didn’t quite know what drove him to go and check if she was in her room, but after he had finished reading one of his books he got up to see.</p><p>Her door wasn’t shut, it hadn’t gone into the latch and was left ajar. </p><p>She wasn’t there. Which meant either she really was hiding, or still being tormented.</p><p>It was already a few hours to sunrise, so he decided to wait for one more night. If she didn’t show her face then, he would have to confront her. And if by any chance, she had received orders from Cazador, he would let him know.</p><p>Another night came and went with neither a word from her nor Cazador. He had hoped for a messenger to send a note, but not even that had occurred. So on the third night he rose at sundown to find Sorcha. He had looked everywhere he was allowed to go and there was no sign of her anywhere. As a last resort, he made his way to Cazador’s study.</p><p>“Astarion,” he greeted him. “I was wondering when you were going to come to see me.” He lifted his gaze from the tome he was reading. “Are you looking for your ward?”</p><p>“I am, master. I was kind enough to give her one night to recover, but alas she hasn’t shown up yet.”</p><p>“That would be because she is still in the dungeons. If you would like, you can go and see her. She will have to remain in my care for another night though.”</p><p>He didn’t know why he had thought Cazador would go easy on her. He remembered times where he had spent several nights in Cazador’s ‘care’ himself. Exhausted and wishing for it to be over.</p><p>Astarion bowed. “That’s very generous of you to offer, thank you.”</p><p>“If you do go down there, bring her a bucket with water and some rags.”</p><p>The request struck him as odd. “Very well.”</p><p>“I will send her to you once I’ve concluded disciplining her.”</p><p>Once again he bowed. “I will fetch you dinner in the meantime then.”</p><p>“No need,” Cazador said. “I have important business to attend to in the city. You may do with your night whatever you please. You may also peruse the library if you wish.”</p><p>It was the first time in years that he had gotten a night off to use the library. Cazador’s most treasured possessions were, besides his slaves, his books.</p><p>“You may go now,” Cazador dismissed him.</p><p>A bit baffled, Astarion left to fetch a bucket and rags. It wasn’t unusual for his master to leave the manor, it was the part where he was leaving because of important business that was.</p><p>He took the stairs down to the cellar and with every step, he felt more and more tense. Going down there, even if it wasn’t for his own torture this once, was highly unsettling. The walls were radiating with dark energy, the pain and screams of the past somehow trapped within the stones.</p><p>Sorcha was in the cell furthest down the hall, the one the chandelier’s light couldn’t quite reach. The floor was covered with straw. He put down the bucket and looked her over. She had been stripped of her clothing, right down to her undergarments. Her hair was no longer tied neatly; it hung past her shoulders, messy and tangled. Her whole torso and arms were burned badly and when he entered the cell, he realized that she was unresponsive. She was still passed out from pain and utter exhaustion. Cazador had given her the same treatment he himself had received. The fire that had scorched away all sympathy for the suffering of others. Only this time, seeing her like that, it wasn’t working. He felt something, deep down, something that he hadn’t felt in over a hundred years. He felt sorry for her. The feeling wasn’t strong. It was more like a faint memory, but nonetheless it surprised him. At the same time, he felt anger for feeling it in the first place. He kneeled down to take a closer look at the damage and as he neared her, the scent of recently seared flesh and dried blood still lingered in the air.</p><p>Cazador had indeed made her suffer through the same ordeal he had also inflicted on him. It would take a while until she had completely healed. The purpose of the water and rags he had brought was now clear. She could use them to cool the worst of the burns.</p><p>He didn’t stay and wait for her to come to. He went back upstairs and headed for the library. If the cellar, the cells and the torture chamber were his most hated place in the manor, the library was his most loved one, seconded only by the gardens. The Szarr family had a collection of literary works that spanned several centuries, some of them written in languages long forgotten by most. He estimated that over half of the books he found in here, he would be unable to understand. Bookshelves lined the walls and continued over two more stories, connected by staircases. The space all of it took up was vast. It was also one of the few rooms that wasn’t lit by candles, but by dancing, magical lights.</p><p>“Now what to read?” He tended to talk to himself when he was on his own. He couldn’t remember if he had picked up the habit somewhere along the way during his time of servitude, or if it was something he had always done. Or maybe he just liked hearing the sound of his own voice.</p><p>It took him a while until he had found a volume that peaked his interest. He made sure to remember exactly which shelf he was taking it from, because if Cazador found even a single book out of place, he would have his head.</p><p>He spent the rest of the night in the library, ensuring he read as many books he could possibly cram into the short amount of time. Just before sunrise, he put back the last volume in a series, a bit saddened that he hadn’t gotten to finish it. With one last look back he left to rest for the day.</p><p>If nothing unexpected happened, Sorcha would be back upstairs the following night.</p>
  </div></div>
<a name="section0006"><h2>6. Trauma</h2></a>
<div class="story"><div class="userstuff module">
    
    <p>
  <span>Astarion sighed as he got up. It was a few hours after sundown and the night was going to be interesting, to say the least. This would be a new and quite different experience. He had seen what condition Sorcha was in and he knew from when he had gone through it, that Cazador would not treat the scars until he needed a fresh canvas for his poetry, at which point, her skin would look as if she had never been burned in the first place.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>It would probably be a while still before Cazador sent her up to see him and he wanted to get some fresh air beforehand.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>He didn’t even reach the hallway that connected to the grounds when Sorcha turned the corner.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Even from a distance he could see that she was shaking. She had been given a simple dress and he knew exactly why Cazador had chosen this particular one. Its neckline was very low and the sleeves only reached above her elbows. All her burns and scars were on display for anyone to see.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>She stopped dead in her tracks the moment she saw him and immediately cast her eyes to the floor. She didn’t speak. It was like she was frozen.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>He stood there for a moment and said nothing. He had never had to deal with something like this before. He had forgotten how to comfort others. He only knew how to comfort himself.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>He approached her slowly, cautiously. There would be no fits of rage from her, that much was clear. “Sorcha?”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Just saying her name made her wince. If he didn’t know better, she was going to run. Which wouldn’t be ideal. “Come with me.” He turned and looked over his shoulder to see if she followed him. She did, although at a distance.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>He took her to her room. When he turned back to Sorcha, the mere sound of the door closing had sent tears streaming down her face. She was crying completely silently. When she finally spoke her voice was small. “I’m sorry,” she apologized. “I wish I wasn’t crying, but I guess I’m just weak.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“You’re not,” he told her. “You just went through hell and came back.” He didn’t quite know what to do with her. “I have no idea how to handle the situation. You’ll have to tell me if you want me to leave you alone for a while.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>She shook her head, sat down on the floor and gestured to a spot next to her. “Can you just sit with me?”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Of course.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>She let out a long breath. She was trying to calm down. “I was so scared you’d be furious because I was gone for so long. Cazador kept me in the basement. He burned me, as you can clearly see.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>He noted her voice changed when she spoke of Cazador. Under the fear there was disdain. She had come to hate him over the course of her torture and secretly he had hoped that it would be the case. He had once killed one of the other servants because they had defended him, his actions. They had kept making excuses for him, and he had lost his temper. He just hadn’t been able to stand it. He knew very well the behavior was a result of the torture as well, but he had been appalled by the display.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“I’m not. I went through it as well, same as you. I feel more angry about feeling sorry for both of us,” he admitted.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“You have no scars,” she pointed out.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>He let out a harsh laugh. “Cazador treated them when he needed a new canvas for his poetry.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Oh. I’m sorry I brought it up.” She was now extremely quick to apologize. She was on edge and he felt like the last thing she wanted to do was cause him to raise his voice.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>He shrugged. “It’s fine.” She still hadn’t looked at him the whole time. It bothered him. “Would you please look at me?”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>He wondered if he hadn’t been able to quite hide the hint of irritation that he had felt, because she tensed, more than that he could practically smell her fear. He pushed the feeling down and made sure to soften his voice when he spoke again. “Why are you scared right now?”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“I feel like whatever I do is going to be wrong. I’m sorry. I just,” her voice almost cracked with her next words, “didn’t want you to have to look at someone as unworthy as me.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>He stared in disbelief. What on earth had Cazador told her down there? He had completely erased every bit of self worth she had had. It didn’t sit well with him. He had never thought about it, but he realized Cazador had tried to break his self esteem as well. He had just never managed, so he had changed tactics with him more than once. “Listen to me,” he urged her, and he was shocked by how desperate he sounded. “Whatever he told you was a lie. He loves to play mind games.” He almost begged her. “Please, look at me.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>She lifted her head and met his eyes. What he saw scared him. It was as if the light in them had dimmed. He had killed a lot of people and he knew a dead person’s stare. This was worse, because she was still very much alive, but somehow a vital spark had left her.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“I think he was right. And I hate it.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>With the hate, something seemed to return. “Hold onto that hate then. Even if you think you have nothing left, you still have that.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>She was spilling more tears again and before he could react, she had wrapped her arms around him. She was hugging him, and an awkward moment later, he returned it.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Astarion?” her voice was muffled.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Yes?”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Please don’t leave me, like everyone else.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>There was a lot she hadn’t told him, a lot he hadn’t asked. He knew almost nothing of her past, but what he was certain of was that whatever information Cazador had pried out of her, he had used against her.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“I’m not going anywhere,” he said.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Thank you.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>The words almost sounded foreign to him. He couldn’t recall if during his time as a vampire spawn, anyone had ever thanked him for anything he had done.</span>
</p>
  </div></div>
<a name="section0007"><h2>7. Nightmare</h2></a>
<div class="story"><div class="fff_chapter_notes fff_head_notes"><b>Notes for the Chapter:</b><blockquote class="userstuff"><p>TRIGGER WARNING for disturbing content, torture and sexual assault.<br/>Sorry for the long wait and the extremely short chapter. I wasn't sure if I should really post this, but here it is. Feel free to skip this one if you feel like it will make you uncomfortable. I promise the next chapter will be less grim and I will post it once I've finished it.</p></blockquote></div><div class="userstuff module">
    
    <p>
  <span>He didn’t rest well. His dreams were plagued with past pains and torture. He found himself in the very cell he had seen Sorcha in. He was in agony. He’d been suspended from the ceiling via a rope tied to his wrists. He’d been hanging there for three nights and days. His strength had left him and his body weight had pulled him down to the point that his shoulders were now dislocated. He was weak from thirst, weak from pain and exhaustion. He wanted all of it to be over. He could still smell the dried blood on his skin after Cazador had used his back as the canvas for his newest poem. He had only shed tears when he was alone in the cell once more, in the dark, where no one could see them. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>He tried to raise his head but couldn’t manage. Instead he looked down at himself and shivered. He had been stripped of all his clothing. His right leg was black, burned beyond recognition, the other had several wounds infested with maggots. He had been left here to slowly rot away. There was nothing he could do and he knew that no one cared anyway. Like Cazador had said, he was insignificant, completely powerless. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>When the dungeons were not filled with screams, they were eerily quiet. All he could hear was his own breathing and the occasional rat scurrying about. What he wouldn’t give to get his hands one one of them to sate his thirst even for a little while. He was slowly starving and eventually the need for blood would drive him insane. He wondered if he wasn’t already. The walls had started whispering. At first, it had been unintelligible, but the more time passed, the clearer they became and the things they were telling him were none that he wanted to hear. They told him he cared for Sorcha. They told him it was a mistake. They told him she would destroy him. And they told him that Cazador would find out that he had been kind to her. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>His eyes closed and when he opened them again next, his master was standing right in front of him. He felt his finger run along his chest, downwards, towards his navel and then further down along his private parts. He hated that his body reacted even though he hated his master’s touch. It was betraying him. He felt himself getting hard. Through the haze of pain he registered a wave of both disgust and pleasure. They clashed and only fueled his suffering. It made him wish for pain again. And only pain. He hated how he was no longer in control of himself. He tried to suppress a moan as Cazador’s hand closed around his length and began to move up and down it, increasing in speed. Before he could come however, his master stopped, leaving him writhing and aching for release. A release he would not be granted. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>Long after Cazador had left again he still felt sickened by what had happened. He wished in vain for his master to drop dead.</span>
</p>
  </div></div>
<a name="section0008"><h2>8. Bond</h2></a>
<div class="story"><div class="userstuff module">
    
    <p>Over the coming weeks he kept a close eye on Sorcha. Her mental state seemed to slowly improve again and their nightly routine was as smooth as it could be with no further incidents.</p><p>And even though everything was going well, Astarion kept being plagued by horrible memories during his rest.</p><p>He got up clenching his teeth. They were far from welcome. They had shaken him. He was disturbed. It wasn’t good. The fact that it kept happening was unsettling.</p><p>A knock on the door almost startled him.</p><p>“Astarion?” It was Sorcha.</p><p>He forcefully pulled the door open. “What?!” He hadn’t meant to hiss at her and he only realized when Sorcha drew back from him distressed.</p><p>“I’m so sorry. I thought you’d be up already. Cazador left me with a message for you.” She held a sealed letter out to him. “He said you’d know what to do after you read this.”</p><p>He broke the seal and as he read, he felt a wave of irritation course through him like a fast acting poison in his veins. He looked up at Sorcha. “Get changed, grab your gear.”</p><p>“Yeah, about that. Cazador burned all my belongings as part of my punishment. The only things I own now are the dress and boots I am wearing.”</p><p>Of course he had, he should have expected it. “Lovely,” the word dripped with sarcasm. “In that case, let’s go.” He grabbed his dagger from the desk drawer and exited into the hallway.</p><p>Sorcha followed him. “Where are we headed?”</p><p>“Out into Baldur’s Gate.”</p><p>“Why?” he heard the suspicion and the worry in her voice.</p><p>“Someone owes our master. We’re going to collect the debt.”</p><p>Her eyes flicked to the dagger. “I hope you’re not going to need to use that.”</p><p>“Oh, but I do.”</p><p>“Excuse me?”</p><p>He flashed her a smirk, the irritation he had felt was slowly dissipating. Maybe it wouldn’t be so bad to have her with him for this job. “I do so love threatening people with sharp objects. It’s fun.”</p><p>“Fun?!” Sorcha doubted that. “If that’s your idea of fun then I’m seriously concerned.”</p><p>They moved through the entrance hall and continued out the door and down the hill. He breathed in the night air. “I didn’t think I’d miss going out, but I did.”</p><p>The further they walked the less tense Sorcha became. She noted, “This is actually quite nice. It feels freeing to get away from the manor, even if it’s just for a little while. It’s not the same as going to the forest to hunt.” For a moment she paused, then added, “By the way, you also owe me something.”</p><p>He laughed, “Are you talking about that tour I offered?”</p><p>“I am, yes.”</p><p>“And here I thought you’d already forgotten about that.”</p><p>“No, because I was really looking forward to it.”</p><p>He was quiet for a moment. “Alright. I’ll show you around when we’re done.”</p><p>She looked genuinely excited about it. “Thank you!”</p><p>“You’re welcome.”</p><p>“You know what?” Sorcha said thoughtfully. “I take back what I said to you right after I got turned. I don’t hate you. You were right. You didn’t have a choice and I was naive.”</p><p>Her apology came unexpected. And even though it didn’t really change anything, he was glad she had acknowledged that he hadn’t had a choice. “Good to hear.”</p><p>The sound of people talking reached them as they neared the cities streets. Sorcha grimaced. “I guess I should get ready to be stared at.” She looked at her completely scar tissue covered arms.</p><p>“I think you’ll be surprised how little attention you’ll draw.” And he was correct. Half the people who were out were already too intoxicated to notice much of anything. The other half were too occupied with trading illegal goods.</p><p>He led the way through back alleys to an empty building with a hatch in the floor.</p><p>“I thought we were collecting a debt. This is abandoned.” Sorcha said skeptically.</p><p>“That’s what he wants you to think. He’ll be here.” He was already lifting the hatch.</p><p>With it open he gestured for Sorcha to head down the ladder and followed her.</p><p>The tunnel was lit with torches. It opened up into a large cavern that had been transformed into a laboratory.</p><p>They were greeted by a gruffy man training a crossbow on them.</p><p>“Hello, Boris,” Astarion smiled.</p><p>“Who the fuck are you? What do you want?”</p><p>“We’re here to collect what you owe Cazador Szarr.”</p><p>“I already said I need more time.”</p><p>“You had another month. Which is quite generous if you ask me.” He stepped closer.</p><p>Boris’ finger went onto the trigger. “Stay back!”</p><p>“If you shoot me, Cazador will just send more people after you,” Astarion threatened. “And they won’t be having a conversation with you.”</p><p>“Look, I can pay what I have now, but it’s not enough yet.”</p><p>“Very well, put down the crossbow and we’ll give you another week, but this is the very last time we’ll be lenient.”</p><p>Boris gave a nod and did as he was told. He rummaged for his coin purse and said, “The woman can come over and get the coin, she’s not armed.”</p><p>Astarion bid Sorcha to comply with Boris. She approached him and he handed her the pouch.</p><p>“What the hells happened to you?” he asked, staring at her.</p><p>“Helped a family out of a burning building,” she lied.</p><p>“Not a lot of folk would do that. I’m sure they were grateful.”</p><p>“They weren’t.” Back by Astarion’s side she gave him what she’d received.</p><p>“What do you mean, they weren’t?” Boris asked, puzzled.</p><p>“They screamed at me that they’d rather have died than be saved by a filthy half breed.”</p><p>“Do you wish you’d let them die?”</p><p>“Sometimes, I do.”</p><p>Astarion gave her a sideways glance and wondered if there was any truth hidden behind the story she had made up. He cleared his throat. “We’ll be back in a week. You better have the rest of our payment.”</p><p>“I will.” Boris seemed relieved that the encounter hadn’t ended in violence.</p><p>They left. Back in the streets Sorcha told him, “I think Boris ruined your ‘fun’ for tonight. You didn’t even get to threaten him with your dagger.”</p><p>He laughed. “Night’s not over yet, there’s still time. I’ll find someone else. If I don’t, you’ll have to do.” The shock on Sorcha’s face made him laugh even harder. He apologized, “I’m sorry. I was joking. It was too tempting, I had to.”</p><p>She shook her head in disbelief. “I don’t think that’s funny. Your sense of humor is very strange.”</p><p>He changed the subject. “You want to have your tour now?”</p><p>“Absolutely. And it better be good!”</p><p>“It will be. Come on then.”</p>
  </div></div>
<a name="section0009"><h2>9. Conversation</h2></a>
<div class="story"><div class="userstuff module">
    
    <p>
  <span>They stood atop a watchtower overlooking Baldur’s Gate.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Astarion had taken her to every possible place that was worth of note and Sorcha had been able to point out at least one interesting architectural detail from a specific time period for each of the popular structures inside the city. He had watched the city change over the centuries naturally. It was where his knowledge stemmed from, but she on the other hand, had to have studied everything, spending countless hours with her head buried between the pages of books.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Do you like the view?” Astarion asked and leaned against the railing, enjoying the cool breeze against his skin. He looked peaceful in this moment, free of worry.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Sorcha stretched and let out a pleased sigh. “I do. Seeing the city lit up from high above is beautiful. I’m really glad you brought me here.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“You’re not even concerned by the fact I put the guard at the door to sleep,” he teased.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“That was worth it.” Her eyes sparkled with amusement. “I dare say I’d encourage you to do it again if it means we’ll get to go here every time we’re in the city.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“I was half expecting you’d disapprove.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“No. The guard will be fine, so it’s all good.” She seemed to want to say more, but didn’t.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Astarion had picked up on it and asked, “What’s on your mind?”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Sorcha quickly averted her eyes and shook her head, almost embarrassed. “Nothing.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“And that was a lie,” he scolded her.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Sorry.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Keep your secrets then.” He let it go and silence stretched between them. He didn’t really care if she told him or not. But he did feel that Sorcha wanted to tell him and it was hard for her to do so.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>When she finally did speak, her voice was quiet. “You remember how I asked you not to leave me like everyone else?”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“I do, yes.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“I was raised by a group of Tieflings. My parents abandoned me at a very young age. That’s also how I know Infernal.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“I’m sorry to hear that. But at least the Tieflings took you in.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Yes, and it broke my heart when they too sent me away.” She sounded sad. “It wasn’t their fault though. It was unavoidable, and still it hurt.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“I understand. If it brings you any comfort, I’m stuck with you for the rest of time, and I mean that in the nicest way possible.” There was no resentment in his voice when he spoke.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Yeah, I thought that was what you meant when you said you’re not going anywhere. Because you can’t.” The next words she uttered were filled with guilt. “I know it shouldn’t be a comforting thought. It really shouldn’t be, but it makes me feel better. And I know I should hate myself for it.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“I don’t blame you. You do what you have to to survive, especially with a master like Cazador. Trust me, I’ve done this for a long time.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“I envy your resilience. Especially since you’ve been alone throughout it.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“There were times I thought of running,” he admitted. “Times where I dreamed up ways to kill Cazador, ways to get his blood to become a true vampire, just to be able to keep going.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“I would have broken. I would have gone out into the sun to destroy myself. I thought about it the first night and the night after my punishment. I’ve never really been a fighter.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Astarion didn’t quite know why it made him angry to hear her say it, but it did. He made sure to keep his voice calm when he answered, “You shouldn’t even think about that, not when there’s already a thousand ways the world and its people are trying to screw you over. You shouldn’t be your worst enemy. You should be your own greatest ally.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>It made her smile. “You’re right. I just wish I knew how.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Maybe you could start by finding a value in yourself that you want to hold on to even when everything else is stripped from you.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“I can try.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>He watched as she turned her gaze back to the city below them. It really hadn’t been too bad to have her company and he hoped he wouldn’t end up missing it should anything happen.</span>
</p>
  </div></div>
<a name="section0010"><h2>10. Cazador</h2></a>
<div class="story"><div class="userstuff module">
    
    <p>
  <span>They arrived back at the manor and Sorcha went to her room while Astarion headed to Cazador’s office.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Enter.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>He stepped in and the door fell shut behind him with a quiet thud. With a bow he handed over the coin purse he had collected. “He will have the rest of the payment in a week.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Very well.” Cazador paced in front of him. “I take it your ward was with you tonight?”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“She was, master. I showed her around Baldur’s Gate so she could get the lay of the land in preparation for hunting.” It was a white lie.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“I’m pleased to hear this. You may bring back dinner next week after collecting the rest of the payment. Make sure she observes and learns well.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>He took another bow. “Of course, master.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Does she confide in you?”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>For a moment, Astarion froze. He forced himself not to panic. Cazador couldn’t know that he had felt a flicker of sympathy for her when he had seen her in the dungeon. “She does. She told me she had been abandoned at a very young age and been raised by Tieflings for a time.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>The fact she had told him seemed to intrigue Cazador. “Interesting. Has she told you anything else?”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“She asked me not to leave her.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Cazador’s eyes sparkled with amusement. “Very good.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“I don’t quite follow,” Astarion told him.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>The smile that spread across his lips was not a comforting one. “In time, you’ll understand.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>More riddles. Astarion hated not knowing what sick schemes his master was plotting, especially when they involved him. Everything his master did was self-serving. Most of it would leave him with nothing to show for his hard work and only cause a trail of blood and pain to form on the path to get Cazador more power.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“As you say.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Cazador stopped pacing and turned to him. “You have proven reliable in teaching her so far. Continue to do so. Do not disappoint me. I’ve put a lot of trust in you by allowing you to teach her instead of overseeing her tutelage myself.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“I will not fail you, master.” He knew very well what would happen if he did and he was not going to let that happen.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“I have left both of you a new set of instructions for the following nights.” He dismissed Astarion with a wave of his hand.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>He bowed a third time for the night and returned to the servant’s wing. Sorcha was already waiting for him outside her room. She had a joyous smile on her face.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Someone looks awfully happy,” he noted. “What’s up with that?”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“I just found something. Come have a look.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>She pulled something from underneath her mattress and handed it to him. It was a sigil ring made from solid gold. He didn’t recognize the family crest.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“It was under there the entire time. I only noticed because I was adjusting the sheets,” she explained. “You think we can sell this and buy ourselves some good fucking wine to enjoy?”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“As much as I love the idea, you will have to take this to Cazador immediately. It could very well be that it belongs to someone he hosted here once.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>She was definitely not fond of having to part with it. “That’s too bad. I will go then. Is he in his office?”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“He is.” Before she walked past him, he told her, “Be careful what he asks you. I had to tell him all about your past and that you asked me not to leave you. I don’t want him to get in your head.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Are you worried about me or yourself here?” The question wasn’t an accusatory one. She seemed curious.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“For both of us,” he simply stated. “I have a feeling that he will be trying to pit us against each other.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Funny. I thought the same thing.” She placed a hand on his shoulder in a reassuring manner. “We’ll be fine.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>He was left standing there with his thoughts racing. She had sounded so sure of it, but he was anything but. She didn’t know Cazador like he did. Nonetheless, he hoped she was right, even when in his heart, he knew that this would only end in disaster.</span>
</p>
  </div></div>
<a name="section0011"><h2>11. Sorcha (Extra Chapter 1)</h2></a>
<div class="story"><div class="fff_chapter_notes fff_head_notes"><b>Notes for the Chapter:</b><blockquote class="userstuff"><p>I felt the need to flesh out the relationship between Sorcha and Cazador as well, so here’s an extra chapter that can easily be skipped if you don’t feel like reading that.</p></blockquote></div><div class="userstuff module">
    
    <p>
  <span>Sorcha’s mind was working overtime as she slowly made her way down the hallway, twisting the ring in her fingers.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>She had learned from her first torture session that Cazador took joy in it and saw it as a strange form of artistry. So far he hadn’t extracted any information from her that she hadn’t been willing to give, despite what both Cazador and probably Astarion believed.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>She had also suspected correctly that Astarion would be reporting whatever she said back to their master, even before he had told her so. It didn’t really bother her. What she did care about however, was the fact that what she said could get Astarion into trouble. She could deal with being punished for her own stupidity. She hated even the idea of another having to pay for her mistakes.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>She didn’t even reach the office before she encountered Cazador.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Sorcha, were you looking for me?” he asked in a neutral tone.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>She had adapted Astarion’s bow. “Yes, master. I found a ring in my room and was instructed to bring it to you.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“A ring?” Cazador didn’t seem to have expected that. “Show me.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>She handed it over.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“I don’t recognize it,” he said, inspecting it. “Where exactly was it?”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“It was hidden under the mattress of the bed.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>For a moment he thought then spoke, “I’ll go ahead and see if I find the crest in the archives. Come along to help me.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“As you wish.” She followed Cazador through different parts of the manor until they arrived at a door at the end of a much older wing with green wallpaper.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“How are your scars?” The question was posed as nonchalant but Sorcha felt like this was another one of his sick ways to pour salt into a wound.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“They are no longer painful.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Do they bother you?”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“I thought they would, but no, not really.” She wasn’t being untruthful either. After her visit to Baldur’s Gate and realizing she could just lie about how she got them, she hadn’t given them a second thought.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“I could treat them, make it look like you’ve never been burned in the first place,” Cazador told her. He was intently watching her face for a reaction.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>She shrugged. “Seems like a lot of work on your part. We both have better things to do.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>For a split second, his expression changed. He hadn’t gotten what he wanted. He had wanted her to be hopeful at the prospect and instead she didn’t care. He was frustrated and perplexed at her lack of unease over her mutilated body. “For now, we do.” He paused and tried one more time. “I might treat them anyway when I have time to spare.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Still nothing. It puzzled him and so he would have to find other ways to torment her psyche.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“That’s very kind of you.” She smiled and entered the archives after him. “Ah, the smell of stored scrolls and ledgers. Homey.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>There was a desk in the very middle, tucked in between the rows of shelves. Cazador pointed to the left hand side and asked her to bring him a large ledger while he took a seat.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Damn, you’re huge,” Sorcha huffed as she got it from its place higher up on the shelf.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>After the ledger, she was told to bring several scrolls and while Cazador poured over the material he continued to talk with her.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Are you aware that I would have made you part with your belongings either way?” he inquired alongside the sound of turning another page.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“I was not. To what purpose?”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“To sever your ties to your old life. Everything you had is no longer relevant. People you knew are no longer relevant. You are no longer your own person, which renders you having belongings pointless.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“I see.” Taking her chances she said, “Seeing all these books and scrolls makes me wonder why you burned the ones I had on me. I would have thought you’d add them to your collection. You clearly appreciate knowledge.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>It was the first time she heard Cazador laugh. She hadn’t thought he could. “If there had been anything that I didn’t know or have in my collection already I certainly would have, but alas there wasn’t, unsurprisingly.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“That’s a pity. And here I thought they were rare.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Cazador perked up at her comment. “They were.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Sorcha pursed her lips. “Damn. Why not sell them then? Seems like a waste, unless you got gold coffers stashed away here as well?”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“I’m not concerned about a lack of gold, no.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>He watched Sorcha grimace and mumble under her breath, “What the hells. Didn’t even feel the need to sell them.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>He chose to ignore her remark. He tapped his finger on the page of the ledger. “I found the crest. The ring belonged to a healer. The family bloodline hasn’t made it to the current days. It ended around a hundred years ago.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Were you responsible for that?” She was indeed curious about it.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Cazador shook his head. “No, not that time.” He gestured for her to return the ledger and scrolls to their place. “When you’re done you have the night to yourself.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>She didn’t head back right away. She decided to stop by the gardens to enjoy the fresh night air.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>She found an area with benches and sat down on one of them. Humming a tune she spent some time relaxing there when she noticed someone watching her from the corner of her eye.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>A human, a bit younger than her, with blond, messy hair. She noticed he was not a spawn.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Hello.” The young man had been tending the flower beds. He was carrying a bucket full of weed. “It’s a nice song.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Hello,” she greeted him. “I’m glad you like it.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>He nodded. “I haven’t seen you here before. When were you turned?”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Uh, what?” She didn’t know if she was allowed to talk about it.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>He repeated himself and added, “You’re a spawn. Cazador turned you. Is that accurate?”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Why had Astarion not taught her how to respond to a situation like this?!</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“I’m sorry, I got no idea what you’re talking about.” It was probably better to deny any knowledge until she knew it was safe to speak with him. “Are you the gardener?”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>With an apologetic smile the human introduced himself, “I see. My name is Niall. And yes, you could say I’m the gardener. But only on certain nights.” His smile turned into a grin. “So what’s your name? Just so we’re not strangers.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“I’m Sorcha.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Well, it was good to meet you.” He bowed before turning away. “I’ll continue my work. I’m sure I’ll see you around.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>He left her sitting on the bench a bit befuddled. She didn’t quite know what to make of the encounter.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>With a long sigh she turned her gaze upwards to the stars before heading back inside.</span>
</p>
  </div></div>
<a name="section0012"><h2>12. Hunter-Gatherer (Part 1)</h2></a>
<div class="story"><div class="userstuff module">
    
    <p>
  <span>A week passed in which they worked on the list Cazador had given them. All of the tasks had been concerning the manor’s upkeep, and much to Astarion’s dismay they had included the bath, a giant indoor pool that could be heated by a fire underneath the hollow floor. They had had to drain the entire thing in order to scrub it clean and then refill it with water from the well. It had taken them two nights to finish.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>He was going to leave for Baldur’s Gate with Sorcha to collect the rest of Boris’ payment and dinner for their master tonight. He was on his way to get her at the moment. He felt nervous. He hadn’t in a long while. If it had been just him going out to hunt he wouldn’t have been, but Sorcha had no experience and he worried she would not be able to keep up with the pace in which things would go down. He didn’t wish for her to become a hindrance, but an asset.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>He entered the storage. Sorcha was putting away the last of the rags they had washed after cleaning the bath.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Do we have to go already?” she asked.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>He nodded. “We do. We want to be back way before dawn.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Alright. Let’s go then.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>They went down the hallway, through the entrance hall and out the door.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Back at Boris’ everything went smoothly. He delivered the rest of the payment and they were on the streets of Baldur’s Gate again within a few minutes. Astarion began to lead their hunt.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>They prowled through the back streets, looking for thugs and drunkards to abduct. With the passing of time Astarion noted Sorcha becoming increasingly anxious. He stopped in an alley and turned to her.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“What’s wrong?” he asked, placing a hand on her shoulder in a calming manner.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“I’m just becoming worried that we’re not going to find anyone.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>He assured her, “It always takes some time. I’ve never returned home empty handed.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>It didn’t seem to have helped ease her mind. She was about to speak again when Astarion shushed her.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>The sound of people screaming had reached him, very faint, but it could not be mistaken for anything else. In the cacophony he had made out the words, “Kill the monster!”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Sorcha shot him a confused glance. She was oblivious to what was going on. Her attention had been elsewhere.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Astarion placed a finger on his lips and then bid her to follow him towards the ensuing chaos.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>What they were faced with when they drew closer was a group of men, stepping over the corpses of their comrades, to keep their assault on a single target going.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>He recognized the vampire spawn who was causing havoc.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Oh, that’s just great!” he hissed.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“What’s happening?”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“We need to kill him!”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“What am I supposed to do?! I have no weapon!” she protested.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Astarion pointed to those who had fallen in the fight. “Take one of theirs. He needs to die!” He sprinted towards the people struggling to take down the spawn. “Get out of here while you still can!” he growled.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“If we-!” one of the men began just to be cut off by the swipe of the spawn’s claw across his throat. He slumped to the ground, dead. The others followed Astarion’s advice and scattered into all directions.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>The spawn addressed Astarion, “He sent me to see what you would do. Try to stop me? Bring me back home? Choices, choices. I’m glad I’m not the one who gets to make them. I bet no matter what you choose he’ll deem your decision incorrect.” His eyes flicked to Sorcha, who was slowly approaching, training a bow with an arrow knocked on him, ready to shoot. “Even if you let her choose.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Astarion now knew what was going on. He grinned. “No. All that means is that you’ve become discardable. The fact that you’ve been sent here is all I needed to know. There are no choices, no matter what he told you. You were sentenced to be destroyed tonight one way or another.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>He saw the doubt flit through the other’s eyes. He should have known Cazador would want to make his night even more arduous than it was going to be already.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Oh, I will enjoy ending you.” Astarion smiled at the discomfort spreading across the spawn’s face. “You should have known your time was up the moment Cazador ordered you to come after me.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“You’re mistaken.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“I know I’m not.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>The spawn bolted, running at top speed down the street, trying to save himself.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Don’t let him escape! Shoot him!” Astarion barked.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Sorcha’s shot went through the spawn’s kneecap, pinning him down. She took a quiver from one of the fallen and readied her next shot.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Astarion picked up a sword and made his way to the spawn who was frantically trying to remove the arrow from his shattered knee. When he found he couldn’t he began crawling backwards. Sorcha stayed within range.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Letting out a laugh, Astarion placed his boot on the spawn’s uninjured leg, raising the sword. “Any last words?”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“I’m not the only one who’s been set up for failure tonight.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>He smirked. “I highly doubt that. I’ll be fine.” He brought down the blade on the spawn’s collarbone and in one clean swing his head came off. Blood pooled beneath the lifeless body, seeping into the gaps between the cobblestones.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Sorcha, now next to him, stared in disbelief. “He’s gone. Just like that…”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Well of course. What did you expect? He just lost his head.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>She shook her head. “I don’t know. I guess I didn’t think it would be over this quickly.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>He shrugged. “We can’t waste any time, we still have to find someone to bring to the manor, and now everybody will be on high alert. This little scene just complicated things further.” He dropped the sword and with a nod of his head, he beckoned Sorcha to once again follow him. They would go far from this mess to the other end of Baldur’s Gate. He hoped news wouldn’t have reached that part of the city before they arrived.</span>
</p>
  </div></div>
<a name="section0013"><h2>13. Hunter-Gatherer (Part 2)</h2></a>
<div class="story"><div class="userstuff module">
    
    <p>
  <span>Astarion turned to Sorcha and asked her, “You think you’re ready to do this?”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>As he had predicted, she wasn’t. She shook her head and sighed. “I’m not, but that doesn’t matter. This has to be done, there’s no way around it.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>"We won’t take any innocents, I swear," he tried to comfort her.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>She smiled at him. “I appreciate that.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>"You’re welcome. Come now."</span>
</p><p>
  <span>He kept leading them, but tonight luck wasn't on their side, Cazador had made sure of that. The alleys behind the residences and shops were frightfully empty, which meant word had spread throughout the city faster than they had been able to move. It annoyed him. They would have to turn their attention to the busier streets.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>He stopped at a corner, frowning. “I should have known he’d play us like he did. He is probably sitting in his office laughing right now. He finds these things funny.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Sorcha looked out onto the streets that lay before them. She looked shaken. “I thought he might.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>For a few moments, neither of them spoke another word. Astarion observed the occasional passers by with increasing frustration.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Do you think the other spawn was right?” Sorcha asked him quietly. “That we were set up to fail tonight? I heard your answer, but now I’m not so sure.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“We’re not going to fail.” He would never admit it, but he felt like he was lying to himself.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Okay. I trust you.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Her words felt like a knife to the chest. He almost wished she didn’t. He struggled a moment to put what he was feeling into perspective. He didn’t want to let her down. It was not something he had felt in a long time. It also was different from when he had first felt that way with his master. He had felt he owed him for saving his life. For Sorcha however, it was because he wanted to keep her from once more experiencing Cazador’s wrath. He wished it wasn’t true, but he realized he had come to see her, not as someone he had to teach by his master’s orders, but as someone who he wanted to teach, because he wanted her to benefit from his own knowledge.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“I’ll need your help for this to work out. We’ll go to a healer, claim you’ve been burned and poisoned. With any luck, they’ll let us in and we’ll snatch someone who is going to die anyway. How does that sound?” It was a last resort, but he assumed the spawn who had been sent after them had wreaked enough havoc to leave quite a few for dead.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Sounds like a solid plan.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>It wasn’t. Everything that could go wrong was going wrong tonight.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>They arrived at the healer’s door to find him hanging by a rope around his neck, bloodied and with several limbs bent at impossible angles, from the beam that held the sign to his practice.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Sorcha stared at his mangled body. “Who did this?” she breathed.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Astarion glowered. “Who do you think? I bet this was the spawn’s first stop tonight.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“I’m glad he lost his head. This is awful! What do we do now?”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>He was at a loss for words.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>When he didn’t respond, Sorcha addressed him again, increasingly distressed, “Astarion? Please, what do we do?”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>His mind was racing at double speed. He had promised her they wouldn’t take any innocents, and he regretted his decision now.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“I know I told you we wouldn’t take any innocents,” he spoke, “but we might have to now. I can’t let us come home empty handed.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“I understand.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Astarion reached out as she turned her head away from him, placing his hand under her chin, stopping her from hiding her emotions from his gaze. He wanted to see the sadness in her eyes, because he had forgotten what it felt like. He hoped seeing it in her would awaken some remnant of it in him, so that he could relate to her. But all it did was leave him with a pang of regret over feeling nothing but a distant whisper of irritation among the sea of indifference at whoever they were going to take.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>He let go of her. “I’m sorry I won’t be able to keep my promise. I really tried.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“I know. It’s not your fault. We have Cazador to thank for that.”</span>
</p>
  </div></div>
<a name="section0014"><h2>14. Dinner</h2></a>
<div class="story"><div class="fff_chapter_notes fff_head_notes"><b>Notes for the Chapter:</b><blockquote class="userstuff"><p>Content Warning: Rats are being killed in this chapter.<br/>I also would like to mention that my version of what the poem says is based on a translation over on reddit <a href="https://www.reddit.com/r/BaldursGate3/comments/jfnymv/spoilers_so_i_transcribed_and_analyzed_cazadors/">here</a> (and was written before my knowledge of the datamined information after patch 4 was released <a href="https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=8xZhtM4NZb0">here on youtube</a>).</p></blockquote></div><div class="userstuff module">
    
    <p>Astarion had just finished tightening a rope around a miller’s bag. He had knocked out a lone farmer, filled one of the sacks with enough hay to conceal the shape of the man inside it and was now in the process of dragging said sack with victim through the most desolate wilderness back to the manor, Sorcha in tow.</p><p>“Are you sure you don’t want help?” Sorcha asked a second time, since he hadn’t answered the first.</p><p>“No,” Astarion grumbled. “You just keep your eye on the bag and let me know if he should start moving, which I highly doubt he will.”</p><p>“This sucks,” Sorcha stated for the fourth time by now.</p><p>“I know.” He was so close to snapping at her to just shut up. “Please be silent for a while. I need to think.” He was glad she didn’t apologize, it would have driven him over the edge. Their night had been shitty already, but it wouldn’t be compared to what would await them at home. He had been in a similar situation before in the very distant past and he was praying Cazador would not repeat or even worsen the treatment he had dished out back then.</p><p>In an attempt to distract himself, he asked her, “You said you could translate the poem Cazador carved into my back, right?”</p><p>“Yes, though I’ll need to see it again to be able to.”</p><p>He stopped dead in his tracks and he felt Sorcha stare at him as he unbuttoned his padded jacket.</p><p>“Wait, what are you doing?”</p><p>“You have a lovely view at my backside while we’re walking. It’ll keep your mind occupied, and I’ll have some answers,” he said and removed his tunic as well. He turned around and Sorcha’s expression almost made him laugh. “You can carry these right?” He handed her the tunic and jacket before she had time to protest.</p><p>“Huh, this is really well made.” She inspected the armor and announced. “I’ll not be carrying this.”</p><p>No, she definitely wasn’t. She was putting it on, but not before she had also slipped his tunic over her head.</p><p>“Excuse me? Did I say you could do that?” He didn’t care if she wore them or not, he just wanted to tease her for the sake of it.</p><p>“You didn’t. Now continue on dragging the sack, so I can get to work on that translation.”</p><p>They kept walking. They still had over a mile to their destination.</p><p>“It’s not really a poem in the traditional sense,” Sorcha let him know. “The words chosen do flow nicely, but this is a ward.”</p><p>She read the words back to him.</p><p>“You know that you could have just spoken gibberish and I wouldn’t know the difference?” he huffed.</p><p>“Yeah, but the point is that this will prevent you from taking any oaths or making deals with any deities. It also prevents anyone from extracting information from your corpse by means of spellcasting should you perish.”</p><p>“Lovely, so Cazador covered all his bases.”</p><p>“It looks like it.” Sorcha returned his clothes with a pout. “Pity I can’t keep them.”</p><p>Astarion groaned. “I am starting to regret talking to you at that tavern.” When she didn’t reply he turned, just to find her standing quite at a distance out in the open field instead of at the edge of the forest.</p><p>“Sorcha,” he called out. “What are you doing?”</p><p>She shushed him and he was already getting irritated when he heard it. Footsteps, roughly twenty men, carrying torches and crossbows, scouring the area in the aftermath of the spawn’s attack. They were very far away, the wind had carried the sound to them. The light of their torches were no more than pinpricks on the horizon.</p><p>Sorcha hurried back. “Let’s get the hell out of here.”</p><p>“Absolutely.”</p><p>They were on high alert now and the way back felt like it was taking even longer than it should have. They stayed well out of sight and when they finally arrived at the manor’s doorstep, Astarion spoke a silent prayer to any gods who would listen.</p><p>When he noted Sorcha still had the bow and quiver on her, he told her, “Hide them somewhere in the forest we hunt in and make sure to remember where you put them. You might need them again in the future.”</p><p>She did and when she was back they moved the unconscious farmer to the dining hall and waited.</p><p>Sorcha, a bit confused, asked, “Aren’t we going to notify him we’re back?”</p><p>“No. He knows we’re back. He’ll have smelled that,” he gestured at the farmer who was still inside the sack.</p><p>“We’ll have to bury him in later, won’t we?”</p><p>“Yes. There’s a chance he will offer us to dine with him, if he asks you, don’t refuse, no matter what he’s going to serve you to eat,” Astarion warned her.</p><p>“Okay. Anything else I should know?”</p><p>He could see that she was just as on edge as he felt. He shook his head. “I don’t know how he’ll act now that there’s two of us here. Just try not to make him mad.”</p><p>“I’ll do my best...”</p><p>It took an excruciatingly long time for Cazador to finally arrive. He was wearing a deep red tunic and black pants. “Apologies for taking so long, but I was talking to a messenger.”</p><p>“No worries. Astarion and I passed the time talking. Were they from the city?” Sorcha asked.</p><p>Cazador nodded. “He was, and he informed me that you successfully killed the servant I sent after you. Well done.”</p><p>Astarion couldn’t keep his mouth shut when he knew he really should, “Did you also tell him to slaughter half of the citizens beforehand? Because that kind of made things difficult.”</p><p>“Excuse me?” Cazador’s tone was somewhere in between surprise and disbelief.</p><p>“He killed off the local healer and a bunch of others to the point where people were arming themselves and going after him. We had to evade patrols of hunters on our way back here.”</p><p>“He was told to find you, and only you. Everything else he did was his own doing,” Cazador explained. “But you were able to still find me dinner.” He glanced at the sack. “Albeit of slightly lesser quality than usual, but given the circumstances, you still did well.”</p><p>“Thank you.”</p><p>“Have the two of you eaten already?”</p><p>This time, Sorcha answered, “We haven’t.”</p><p>“Then feel free to stay and dine with me.”</p><p>Astarion felt a pit open in his stomach. He hated the way Cazador had worded it. It wasn’t a question and he hoped Sorcha wouldn’t mistake this for having a choice to say no.</p><p>“We’d love to!” she said excitedly.</p><p>Astarion gave her a sideways glance. She was turning her nervous energy into something else. It wasn’t something he himself did. But it was still a good way to deal with it.</p><p>Moreover, she seemed to be amusing their master. Which was a rare sight.</p><p>“Well then, I’ll summon your dinner for you.”</p><p>Astarion knew what it meant. Rats.</p><p>It didn’t take long for them to scurry into the dining room, roughly 25 of them.</p><p>“That’s a lot of rats,” Sorcha stated with a smile. “Are we allowed to eat all of them?”</p><p>“Of course,” Cazador spoke. And while Sorcha didn’t seem to notice it, her reaction hadn’t been what he had expected.</p><p>“That’s great! So much food, and we didn’t even have to work to find it. This is the best thing that happened all night!”</p><p>Astarion now openly stared at her. How had he never noticed that she had a screw loose?</p><p>“You’re not a picky eater, are you?” Cazador picked up one of the rats, still amused, and stepped closer. He held it out to her, but she didn’t take it.</p><p>“Can you feed me?”</p><p>Astarion tensed, half expecting Sorcha to be backhanded. He felt strange watching their interactions. Sorcha hadn’t done a single thing the way he had expected her to.</p><p>Cazador laughed. “Did you just ask me to feed you?”</p><p>“Yes.”</p><p>“Very well.”</p><p>Sorcha opened her mouth and Cazador pushed the squirming rat against her upper fangs until they had pierced its skin. He watched as she bit down and started to drain it. There was not a single indicator that she was disgusted. She was indifferent. She didn’t care that she was eating vermin. It perplexed him. When she had completely drained the rat’s small body he put it on the dining table. Sorcha’s eyes went to it.</p><p>“What is it?” Cazador asked.</p><p>She waved at the rat. “Was wondering if you owned any pets we could feed them to. If not I’d just skin and roast them for the human servants here. They probably wouldn’t say no to rats roasted in a bit of butter.”</p><p>“There are no pets, but I am quite fond of your idea to give out roasted rats to the servants. You may get to work after we’re done. They are housed in the north wing.”</p><p>“I will.”</p><p>Cazador strolled over to the bag. “Well, let’s see what you brought me.” He pulled the farmer free. “Not half bad.” He sank his fangs into the man’s neck. He didn’t regain consciousness and it didn’t take more than two minutes until he was completely drained of blood. “Astarion, you will bury him once you’ve eaten.”</p><p>“Of course.”</p><p>“What’ll happen to his clothes?” Sorcha inquired, putting a second drained rat down on the table next to the first.</p><p>“Since they’re intact, the servants will wash them and keep them as spares,” Astarion answered her.</p><p>“I see.”</p><p>“Did you have something else in mind?”</p><p>She shook her head and picked up a third rat. “No.”</p><p>“Make sure to leave some to Astarion so he won’t go hungry,” Cazador chuckled.</p><p>“I will. Are you leaving us already?”</p><p>“Unfortunately, yes. I have a lot of paperwork to do.”</p><p>“Pity. Thanks for dinner.”</p><p>“You’re welcome. I will see you tomorrow night and you will let me know how the addition to their diet was perceived.”</p><p>Sorcha took a bow and when Cazador’s footsteps were no longer heard a long silence stretched in the dining hall.</p><p>Astarion watched as she began shaking and sat down on the floor, rocking back and forth, crying completely silently.</p><p>“For a moment, I thought you were crazy,” Astarion stated and made his way to her side. “But now I realize you were acting so convincingly it even fooled Cazador.”</p><p>“It’s hard. It takes all my energy and afterwards, I break down.”</p><p>He placed a hand on her shoulder. “Let’s both finish our work and then meet up at the workshop, ok?”</p><p>She nodded. “Okay.”</p>
  </div></div>
<a name="section0015"><h2>15. Aftermath (Part 1)</h2></a>
<div class="story"><div class="fff_chapter_notes fff_head_notes"><b>Notes for the Chapter:</b><blockquote class="userstuff"><p>Content Warning: Self-harm.<br/>Sorry for the short first part on this chapter. More will be coming soon.</p></blockquote></div><div class="userstuff module">
    
    <p> </p><p>Astarion finished filling up the grave with earth, stored the shovel and made his way to the workshop.</p><p>“I don’t think I can do this again,” Sorcha said as she picked up another tool to add to the pile that would go to the blacksmith for maintenance.</p><p>“You’ll have to. You know the alternative is torture.”</p><p>“I just want all of this to go away.”</p><p>She wasn’t in a good mood. She was drained of her strength and Astarion knew tonight had been too much for her.</p><p>“You know it won’t,” he spoke carefully. “You’ll survive this. You just need some rest for now.”</p><p>“I guess you’re right.” The smile she gave him was hollow and he knew she didn’t think the same.</p><p>“Is there anything I can do to make things easier for you?” he asked.</p><p>“I don’t know. I don’t think there’s anything you can do. Not when I’m feeling this low.”</p><p>“Let me know if you think of something.”</p><p>“I will.”</p><p>Astarion hoped she would recover quickly. He didn’t like seeing her broken. It reminded him of times where he’d felt just like her. It brought back memories he had tried to bury in the blackest corners of his mind and they were quickly flooding him with rage.</p><p>“You can go,” he told her. “I’ll finish up on my own.”</p><p>She had picked up on the change in his tone. “I can keep working, it’s fine. I’m sorry.” She thought he was angry because she wasn’t keeping up her usual pace.</p><p>“That’s not it. All this just brought up some things I’d rather avoid thinking about.” He purposely omitted the part where seeing her in this state had caused it. “Don’t worry, it’s alright. I’m not angry with you.”</p><p>“I’ll get some sleep then.” She was trying so hard not to cry again. “Don’t be too hard on yourself.”</p><p>“I’ll be fine. I just need to be alone right now.”</p><p>She left and the moment he no longer heard her footsteps he rammed the chisel he was holding into his thigh to stop every thought in its track. When he pulled it back out blood was pooling from the wound, just long enough to stain his pants and leave a few drops on the floor. The pain lingered for a bit even after the injury had healed. It had taken less than a minute.</p><p>A familiar voice in his head told him that this wasn’t going to work in the long run and that he would eventually have to find a different way to deal with flashes of unwelcome memories.</p>
  </div></div>
<a name="section0016"><h2>16. Aftermath (Part 2)</h2></a>
<div class="story"><div class="fff_chapter_notes fff_head_notes"><b>Notes for the Chapter:</b><blockquote class="userstuff"><p>Content Warning: Suicidal ideation.</p></blockquote></div><div class="userstuff module">
    
    <p>
  <span>He cleaned up the mess he had made, washed the blood off himself and then decided it would be better to fix the hole the chisel had left in his trousers as well.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>It meant he would have to visit the handmaiden who was responsible for making Cazador’s clothes to borrow thread and needle.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>He knocked on her door and immediately received an answer. She’d know it wasn’t their master.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Who the hell is this?”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>He entered. “Reidun. I just need a needle and thread.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>The handmaid's red eyes narrowed. “Astarion. Haven’t seen you in forever. I had really hoped it would stay that way.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Her feelings were justified. Last time they’d seen each other he had visited with Cazador in tow. Reidun had earned a few new scars on her face over the course of their servitude. It looked like she had wrestled a bear, but he knew better. “He didn’t send me.” It was all she needed to hear.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>She got up from her stool and rummaged through a box. “Heard you got stuck babysitting.” Reidun looked out of place in the small room. She was not what you imagined a handmaid to look like. She was tall, muscular and built more like a fighter.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“I did. And by the looks of your face I can only assume your handiwork wasn’t good enough at one point.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“He gifted me those just a few hours earlier, before you came back with dinner.” She pulled out dark thread and glanced at him. “The new one, what was her name?”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Sorcha.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Ah, right. Haven’t gotten to see her yet. She doesn’t come around here and as you well know I’m not allowed to roam the halls.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Reidun’s room was very much a prison cell. Servants brought her live rats to feed on and her only view outside was through a small window.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>As much as he hadn’t wanted to come here, the distraction was welcome. “Would you like to meet her?” He wasn’t asking for Reidun. He was asking because he thought Sorcha would probably appreciate getting to talk with someone other than him.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Only if she can help me with some of my work.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Oh, don’t you worry. She’ll help.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Reidun had finally found a needle and handed Astarion what he needed to fix his pants. “She may come then. And you don’t forget to bring these back. Also, not a word to our master or I’ll have to crack your skull on the nearest solid object I can find.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“I’ll keep my mouth shut.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Back in his room, he got to work. Not long after he was done a loud crash down the hall startled him. Cazador’s voice rose above the fading echo. “Who is responsible for this?”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>As soon as he opened the door, he could smell the metallic scent of blood in the air and against his better judgement, he went to see what had happened.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>He found Cazador still in the foyer standing over a red smear of skin, crushed bones and organs that was trapped under the giant chandelier that had fallen from the ceiling.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Four servants were standing in a line with their heads bowed. A fifth had stepped forward. Terror in his eyes, muttering, “I’m sorry. I’m so sorry,” repeatedly.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Astarion.” His master turned to him as he approached. “We just had an accident. Would you mind taking him back to the north wing?” He pointed at the man who had stepped forward.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Cazador’s request was unexpected, usually servants who caused any kind of inconvenience were sent to spend some time in a cell.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Right away.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>He took another look at the man as he led him back to his quarters. Blond, messy hair, slightly malnourished and shaking like a leaf in the wind. “I didn’t mean for this to happen. The link broke. Poor Cole.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“At least it was a quick death,” Astarion said. “He probably didn’t even feel anything.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“You think so?”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Yes.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“What will happen to me now?”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Astarion told him, quite disinterested, “I don’t know, but you may have been lucky tonight. You were not immediately punished. Cazador most likely thought seeing your acquaintance as a smear on the floor was punishment enough.” As they turned into the north wing he left the man and returned to the entrance hall where the four remaining servants were hauling the chandelier back into place. Cazador was no longer present. But Sorcha now was.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“What are you doing here?” he asked her and stepped close enough for them not to be overheard by the servants.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“We are to oversee their progress. So much for my rest and you getting to be alone.” She looked scared. “He made me tell him why I wasn’t with you. I couldn’t lie. I couldn’t omit anything either.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“So he knows I sent you to rest because I wanted to be alone. That’s almost of no consequence.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“No, you don’t understand. He asked me to truthfully answer how I felt and I had to tell him I wanted to fucking die. Didn’t you tell me to never let him know? I remember it being the first piece of advice you gave me.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“I did.” He went quiet before asking, “Did you really want to die?”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“In the moment, yes.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“And now?”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“I wish I had never felt that way.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>He couldn’t help but notice she looked guilty. “Because of what I told you?”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Only partly. More because I would be leaving you here, on your own, to suffer Cazador’s whims without support. That wouldn’t be fair.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>He closed himself off. “Life isn’t fair and you shouldn’t feel guilty about it.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Would you care if I was just gone one day?”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>He realized too late that Cazador had set both of them up. No matter how he answered the result would be the same. She’d get hurt. Either through his words, or through the punishment he would receive. Cazador was using him as a weapon against her. “I would.” He placed both hands on her shoulders. “I need you to steel yourself against what’s going to happen next. I’m going to get punished. I’m not supposed to have any emotional attachments.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>She stared at him. “Then why didn’t you lie? You should have lied!”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“I assumed that would have hurt you more.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“This is just as bad. The alternative would have spared you physical pain!”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“I know.” He hadn’t thought he could be this averse to hurting anyone. Especially when he knew it would cause Cazador to lay his hands on him. He had thought being turned into a spawn had killed every single moral fiber in him.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“I must admit this is better than any play I’ve watched at the theater in Baldur’s Gate,” Cazador chuckled, appearing right next to them. He had been there the entire time.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>They both winced and after the initial shock had worn off, Sorcha begged, “Please, spare him.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“If you would endure the penalty I had planned for him instead.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Sorcha, don’t!”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Cazador smiled. “I don’t think she needs your permission, Astarion.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“I will. You’re not going to touch him.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Please, don’t hurt her like you hurt me.” In complete horror, Astarion heard his own voice break.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Oh, don’t worry,” Cazador said. “I’m going to grant both of your requests tonight. Consider yourselves lucky. You’re going to go to the dungeon and torture each other like you would your worst enemy. You will share a cell and return to your usual duties tomorrow.”</span>
</p>
  </div></div>
<a name="section0017"><h2>17. Torture For Two</h2></a>
<div class="story"><div class="fff_chapter_notes fff_head_notes"><b>Notes for the Chapter:</b><blockquote class="userstuff"><p>Content Warning: Depictions of torture.</p></blockquote></div><div class="userstuff module">
    
    <p>
  <span>Cazador went with them to watch, much as Astarion had expected. They were ordered not to damage each other beyond what their regeneration could restore before he would make them switch places.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Astarion was the first to be tied by the hands and suspended by a rope from the ceiling. It quickly became clear that Sorcha had no experience, which caused Cazador to intervene and guide her, showing her all the things Astarion hated the most. By the end of it, he was screaming, begging her to stop, at which point he received enough time to heal for him to have a go at her.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>For Sorcha, Cazador got to sit back. He began by cutting the dress off her, which earned him a displeased groan from his master.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>He hoped it would enable her to get nicer clothing. He knew Cazador would not have her walking around the manor naked.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>He ran a blade along her arms and torso, noting that the scar tissue was harder to cut than healthy skin.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Sorcha stifled all her screams by biting down on her lip so hard he was sure she’d pierce it.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>When he went to heat the dagger until it glowed red hot she had reached the point where she could no longer stay silent. The stench of burning flesh was beginning to saturate the air, overpowering the scent of blood.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>He was gripping the handle so tightly his knuckles were white. He hated that he couldn’t hold back. He prayed Cazador would make them switch again before he could proceed to do to her what he longed to do to him if he ever got his hands on their master. And this time his prayers were heard.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Cazador made him stop and they went on to switch three more times before he decided they’d had enough. He told them he would send someone to bring cleaning supplies so they could clean up the mess they’d made.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Cautious, Astarion listened for his footsteps on the stairs and when he was certain he really was gone and not hiding he handed Sorcha his shirt. It was long enough on her to give her some privacy.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>They were both still dazed and the pain hadn’t yet faded completely. Some cuts were still proceeding to close up.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Sorcha wordlessly pulled his shirt over her head.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“I’m sorry I stripped you of your clothing,” he spoke. “I wish he’d left out ‘like your worst enemy’ when he ordered this.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“It’s fine. I’m not one to be embarrassed over that sort of thing anyway. Was that what you had planned for Cazador?”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Yes, and I’m glad I never got to the point where I would truly start hurting him.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>She flinched ever so slightly. “I’m sorry as well. I didn’t know what I was doing. I had hoped Cazador wouldn’t interfere.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>He shrugged. “I expected it. Don’t get hung up over it. If it makes you feel any better, he wasn’t lying when he said we were lucky. What he would have done to either of us on his own would have been so much worse than this.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“I know. It still sucked. But at least I learned something tonight.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“What would that be?”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“That we make a good team even in the shittiest of circumstances.” She tried to lighten the mood. “I even get to wear your things again.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>He grinned. “True.” He paced up and down while they waited for the servant to arrive.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>A tall woman brought them a bucket with water and rags. “Cazador told me to let you know he enjoyed the entertainment you provided tonight and that he has decided to let you have the following night for yourselves to do whatever you please. If Miss Sorcha wishes she may visit the handmaiden to pick some clothing that is more to her liking.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Entertainment?! If this is what he finds entertaining I say he has lousy taste,” she whispered to Astarion then addressed the woman, “Tell him we said thank you.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>The woman bowed and left them.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Astarion chuckled. “He does, doesn’t he? You know what’s funny? I visited the handmaiden earlier tonight and asked her if she’d like to meet you.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“And what did she say?”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Only if you helped her with some of her work.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>She rolled her eyes. “Fine then.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>They cleaned up and before long they went to rest on the cold stone floor in a cell.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“I’m going to spend every waking hour trying to figure out how to get back at the bastard,” Sorcha vowed.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“I’m in as well.” He refrained from telling her that he had tried and never found a way. That other spawn had tried to assassinate their master and failed, and that their only hope was surviving as best they could.</span>
</p>
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